


John: Write a Letter

by Sandbirde



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Psychological Trauma, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandbirde/pseuds/Sandbirde
Summary: John writes a letter to his dad.My first piece for Windyzine!





	John: Write a Letter

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I know it's been a while since I posted something, but I promise I'm not dead! I've just...had a lot of personal stuff going on, and finishing Fresh Snow, specifically, has been pretty low priority. That being said, there was no way I could let Homestuck's 10th anniversary pass without creating something, and so I wrote two pieces about our favorite boy for Windyzine, a John Egbert fanzine! Check out the full thing here: https://www.dropbox.com/s/wno8h6vkiii52vy/Windyzine-%20A%20John%20Egbert%20Fanzine.pdf?dl=0
> 
> This first piece is what it says on the tin. It's a post-game fic where John, at Rose's suggestion, writes a letter to his dad. I wish I'd been able to participate in the great Homestuck reread, as it probably would have helped with characterization, but here we are. Hope you like it!

~~Dear Dad,~~

~~Hey, Dad,~~

~~Dad,~~

~~Dearest Father,~~

~~Esteemed patriarch,~~

~~Rose, stop fucking around, just let me write~~

Hi, Dad.

It's been a while, huh? Like, literally thousands of years. Can you believe it? I still can't. I mean, at this point I guess I'm used to it. It's just...not really what I expected my life to look like at 13. I don't think anyone would have expected it, but here we are - me and my best friends, conditionally immortal gods.

Does that even count as immortal? If you can still die, it's not really immortality, is it? I don't know. You end up with a lot of weird questions when you're somewhere between human and...I don't even know what to call it. I don't know a lot of things, honestly. It doesn't help that I remember less and less as time goes on. You'd think getting these super cool powers and stuff would make your brain and body better too, but I think mine are still human.

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe living hundreds of times longer than you ever should have just does that to a person.

Sorry to be so depressing. I've changed a lot since everything happened. I guess I was going to anyways. I was a kid. We all were. I don't think any of us really understood what we were doing until it was too late to take it back. But I guess it wasn't really our fault, either. If it wasn't us, it was gonna be somebody else, and we would have just been blown away by meteors. Would that have been any better? I used to ask myself that a lot. Now, though, it's been so long, and...everyone here seems happy. I want to think we did something right. Something good.

Something to make up for all the pain. Something to make up for losing so many people we loved.

I don't know. Rose can call it destiny or fate or whatever, but I don't think that changes anything. I don't mind it if it makes her feel better, though; I still just want to see everyone happy, more than anything. But don't get me wrong! She's still a great friend, just like everyone else. You know she was always the armchair psychologist type, but since all of Earth's knowledge exploded out of existence, she's kind of the best we've got. She's been trying really hard to help everybody work through their emotions and stuff. (That's another reason I think our brains are still human. As far as I know, real gods don't wake up screaming.)

She's the one who told me to write this letter. She said it's just to help me get my thoughts out, and grieve you the way I never really got a chance to. I don't know if it's working yet, but it's really nice to talk to you again, even if you'll never hear it. I don't even remember the last time I wrote a letter. I think it was for somebody's birthday present? But yeah, it's not easy to send letters across multiple dimensions of spacetime. I did send a bucket once, though. That was pretty funny. It's hard to explain why to someone who never got to see any of this, but maybe I'll tell you some other time.

Oh, right! I can't believe I didn't think of this until now, but I'm sort of a dad now too! No, not with Rose or Jade or that girl I had a crush on in 3rd grade. Don't worry about that, haha. Rose is actually married now! To another girl, no less. They're really cute together. And Jade...well, it's hard to explain, but turns out she's kinda my sister? But also...my brother's granddaughter, or…? Yeah. Again, story for another letter.

Anyways, my daughter isn't actually, like, biologically related or anything. She's a salamander. We all got our own planets with alien beings on them as part of the game, and she was one of the adorable little things on mine! I named her Casey. You probably already know why. If there's one thing that hasn't changed about me, it's that good ol' Nic Cage still hits me where it hurts. Especially now.

There's this other girl, Jane. You never knew her, but...you also sorta did. She was my grandma - your mom. Crazy, huh? So much weird time stuff has happened over the past few years that I don't know if I could ever explain it all. Anyways, she's pretty cool! She spends most of her time with Roxy - Rose's mom - and Calliope - this nice alien girl(?) we met a little while ago, but she seems nice, and we both hate cakes! Heh, sorry about that.

She and I have met a lot of your dopplegangers. Sometimes, when one of them is talking behind me, for a second I can forget it's not you. Although...this might sound weird, but I feel like in a way, they're all you. I never used to question my identity much, but when you know there's so many versions of you, all in different timelines, all living different lives, it's simultaneously scary and comforting? Like, none of them are you, but they still sort of branch off from this same person - like there's this essence of you that stretches infinitely across time and space. It's kinda neat.

I like to think it's the same for everybody else, including you. Even if the other yous don't have the same memories or know me the same way you did, they're still Dad - not my dad, not directly, but Dad. They're loving, they're good listeners, they'll hug me when I'm feeling down, and that's all that really matters, isn't it?

Still, sometimes I want to ask them questions I know they don't have the answer to. Sometimes I want them to remember things they never saw or did. Sometimes I want them to be _you_ you, so bad that it physically hurts. Then I think of something you told me, so long ago it feels like something I saw in a movie.

I was 10, or maybe 11. You came home from work with a surprise for me; no special occasion, you just saw it at the toy store and knew I'd love it. I was super excited when I saw the bag, but you made me wait until you'd changed out of your work clothes. Then you sat with me in the living room and watched as I ripped it out of the bag - a kid's magic kit. I was over the moon! I played with it for hours, doing all kinds of dumb tricks for you while you picked cards and pretended to be amazed at my natural prowess.

Then I tried to tell you about the hidden compartment in the top hat.

You stopped me before I could speak. You put your hand on my shoulder, and for a minute I was scared I was in trouble. But you just said this: "A magician never reveals his secrets. Knowing how it's done ruins the magic."

I know you didn't mean for that to be life advice - or maybe you did. Either way, that's how I think of where I am now. Sometimes, I want everything to make sense. I want everyone that looks like you to be the same. I want there to only be one timeline. I want the answers to all my deepest questions, all the things that keep me up at night.

But then Jade comes over and asks if I want to hang out at the park with her and Rose; or Dave calls me and forces me to listen to his shitty freestyling (no, even after thousands of years, it hasn't gotten better) while Karkat yells in the background (how does his throat never get sore?); or I take a scenic walk, somehow end up at Dad's place again, and he invites me in for cake. And that's when I know this is the magic show, all the world's a stage, and I never want it to end.

I think, if you were here, you would have said the same thing.

I love you, Dad. I'll write to you again soon.

Your son, always,

John


End file.
